8 NORTH SHORE BREEZE and Reminder 
The Handicraft shop at Marblehead is a novelty. 
It is doing a splendid work and there is about the work- 
shop a clam, quiet atmosphere that is most refreshing. 
This is due to the great care in avoiding confusion, thus 
quieting the nerves. The workers are saved all care and 
responsibility by the skilled heads who set up the looms, 
dye the yarns and see that everything is up-to-date. 
There is no boubt but what Dr. Hall’s movement has 
done great good. It has brought happiness, self-respect 
and co-operation to a great army of handicapped people 
who through illness have seen light through blue 
glasses. 
‘““Goward!’’ 
By HELEN CHRISTENE HOERLE 
13 was evening. A soft, wonderful moonlight evening. 
It was on an evening like this that cavaliers of old 
wooed their ladies fair with tender serenades, and duels 
were fought by men, brave and true, for the honor of 
these same fair ladies’ good names. An evening such as 
poets have raved about, from time memorable, fitting its 
beauties into perfect verse, and artists have always loved 
to cover their canvases with its wonderful radiance, and 
will continue to do so till the end of time and the be- 
ginning of eternity. A night just made for a Man, a 
Maid and Romance. 
The great pale moon shone forth from the deep 
blue velvet of the skies, and millions of tiny stars hovered 
about it as moths around a candle flame. From the shore 
far out on the lake there gleamed a broad avenue of 
silvery light, on which it seemed as if one could walk, 
and finally reach the opposite shore where hundreds of 
tiny craft were anchored. The great trees that fringed 
the banks of the large lake stood out like grim shadows 
of death, and cast a dark shadow over the moonlight 
water. All was as still as a tomb except for the faint 
plashing of the paddles thru the water as some canoe shot 
past, or the uncanny wailing of a lonesome frog. 
To the girl and the man in the canoe fastened among 
the branches of an overhanging willow, it was Paradise, 
and these two were as much alone in it, as Adam and Eve 
were in the Garden.of Eden. j 
Suddenly the man spoke softly as if loath to break 
the stillness. ‘Nell, dear, you are unusually quiet tonight.” 
The girl smiled, a dazzling brain bewildering smile. 
“Quite an unusual occurrence for Nell Standish to be 
quiet, isn’t it Bob? But a night like this always effects 
me, makes me think of the things that old moon has seen, 
deeds of valor, of cowardice, of right and of wrong.” 
The man laughed as he leaned forward so as to 
better see the girl’s face. “How romantic you are,” he 
teased. “I never knew you were romantic. But it is 
a night for romance and for love.’ Unconsciously his 
voice grew soft and tender. 
The girl shrugged her shoulders, “And never before 
did I know that you were romantic. It surely takes a 
moon like that to bring out the romantic side of one’s 
nature. But think, Bob,” the girl was intensely seri- 
ous, “of the things that moon has seen, the revellings, the 
tragedies, maybe on this very lake.” Her eyes swept-over 
the waters till they again rested on the man’s lover-like 
face outlined in the moonlight. 
The man laughed, “Personally I don’t like to think 
ofits 
“Gives you the creeps?” Her eyes mocked him. 
“It makes me feel all creepy, too. But I love it, the 
quiet, the loneness, the very moon, why I even—” she 
etopped blushing as she stretched out her firm arms as if 
to embrace it all. 
“As I love you, you darling,” the man muttered, then 
aloud “Nell, dear, do you know why I wanted you to—” 
the canoe was rocking madly as he moved toward her. 
“Sit down, Bob,” she commanded, her doll-like face 
contracted with fear. 
The man laughed loudly, bullying, “Afraid? Why 
Nell, I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.” He sat 
down at her feet in the bottom of the canoe, and gazed 
inquiringly into her face. 
“T’m not,” she laughed jerkily. “But, but I’m not 
particularly anxious to receive a wetting.” 
“Nell,” he said, quietly but forcibly taking posses- 
sion of her hands. Tiny jeweled hands they were, hardly 
capable of doing anything—one would imagine to look at 
them,—but holding a few bridge cards, or a cup of tea. 
But the man knew differently, he had seen those hands 
guide an auto thru a crowded city street, and stop a 
runaway horse. Indeed do a thousand other things that 
hands three time. the size were incapable of. Hands are 
often deceptive, but Nell Standish’s were more deceptive 
than any others in the world. 
“Nell dear,” he continued, “I asked you out here to- 
night, because, I—I wanted to have you alone.” 
The girl’s face was a shadow so the man, unfor- 
tunately, did not see the look of perfect joy that passed 
over it. 
“I wanted to get you away from them all,” he went 
on, his voice vibrating with passion, “those other young 
fellows, who crowd around you so, and never give an older 
like I—tho I’m not so old—a chance. Nell dear, I love you. 
I love you so life wouldn’t be worth living without you. 
I want you for my wife.” 
The girl moistened her hot, dry lips. 
what can I say? I’m so happy, I can’t she stopped 
abruptly, head up, listening.. From across the lake came 
the faint spent cry, of “HELP.” “Paddle for your life, 
Bob. Someone is in danger.” 
_ The man laughed easily, “But you will never get 
there in time. Someone must be nearer than we are. 
Let them go. Finish, dear what you were saying. You 
have made me so——” 
The girl shivered apprehensively and without deign- 
ing to reply continued to paddle with long, clean strokes 
out into the center of the lake. Again came the same 
cry, nearer this time, and a little weaker. 
“It’s to the north, over there,” the girl waved her 
hand vaguely toward the nearest shore, “we are not too 
late.” The tiny hands were once more at work paddling 
swiftly toward the spot from whence came the call. 
“You don’t mean to say, you are going to in 
“Save that woman,” the girl finished. “I am if I can. 
Paddle, Bob, paddle.” 
The man silently, sullenly, obeyed. The girl’s tone 
was authoritative. The canoe sped over the quiet waters 
as a bird on wings. Suddenly a dark object loomed up 
on the water about ten feet ahead of them. 
“The canoe,” the girl gasped, then called, “where 
are you?” 3 
“Here,” came back in a weak feminine voice from 
the other side of the overturned canoe. 
“Bob dear, 
” 
